The Fall of Beacon Hills
by fadedrage
Summary: Beacon Hills finally attracts the attention of Sam and Dean, who almost immediately encounter the pack when they get attacked by hell hounds. But it's not just a crossroads demon coming to collect its dues. It's much older and much worse. It might spell the end of the never-ending war on the supernatural for the Winchesters and the pack.


So this fic will be AU for the most part. I'll probably ignore most of the canon stuff, at least for TW. For SPN, it'll be Post-Purgatory. I want to include PTSD Dean, I want him to bond with these children. Supernatural children who have defeated reallly bad stuff, sure, but still kids none-the-less. He is a father without children, and that must be rectified. I know, I just KNOW, he will be a dad-joke GENIUS. For TW, I don't really know about where it would be set. Scott is an alpha, Derek is there, Nogitsune Stiles hasn't happened, Parrish might show up, haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll resurrect Allison, because Isaac+Allison=YES. Also, Isaac is there. And the twins, who won't be evil. Dicks, yes, but not evil. Actually, nix that, just Ethan. And Danny, because DANNY. Definitely no Jackson, can't stand him. No Malia. Maybe Kira, just so Scott won't bitch about Allison. Not that much, at least. Stylidia will run rampant, but I want buildup for it, dammit, so not until later. Destiel won't make an appearance. If Dean does end up with anyone, it'll be Derek, because while I'm not a fan of Destiel, I do like a not totally straight Dean. Sam will be forever alone. General bromances abound. Other people I forgot to mention. I'm just gonna make up an enemy. The name and backstory, at least. I don't feel like creating an entirely new species for them to battle, or looking up lore. Maybe it'll be a demon. Maybe an angel. Maybe a werewolf. Werewolf demon? Weredemon? It's gon be Dean-centric, baby, with some cuts to the wolves, probably from Stiles POV or some just general 3rd person, plus some dips into the the other's thoughts and emotions. Yes, I play favorites. So sue me (but not really, I have zero money)

Ya, don't own any of these characters, unless I make one up, then I own that one. I'm pretty sure. Actually, I should google that… Is the character mine if I make them up in an AU with two shows? Probably. Eh, whatever.

 _The werewolves were circling. Benny and Castiel stood near him, facing the feral creatures. They were outnumbered; the wolves started to close in-he could hear Benny and Cas screaming as they were torn apart-oh God, he was gonna die dull forest seemed to bleach of even more colour as a wolf wrapped his clawed hands around Dean's throat, shaking him roughly, yelling "Dean, we're here. Dean!" in Sam's voice, but that wasn't right, Sam didn't get pulled into Purgatory-_

Dean opened his eyes, a light sheen of sweat covering his body, his hand moving to grab a knife that luckily was not in him at the second, or Sam would've come away bloody. Sam stopped shaking Dean's shoulder. The Impala's engine rumbled to a halt, and Dean blearily took in his surroundings. He was in the latest motel parking lot, in a town somewhere in California.

"Time?" he croaked out.

"Just after 12. I'll check us in, and then we can grab some lunch. There's a diner just down the road," Sam replied. Dean grunted in agreement, then rested his head back on the door. He was dimly aware of Sam exiting the car and walking inside the motel- _what is he doing, sleeping alone, letting his guard down-_

Dean pulled himself out of whatever dream state he was falling into. He wasn't in the mood for any more Purgatory dreams today, one was just fine, thanks. He had enough to deal with, and Purgatory flashbacks would just throw him off balance. To distract himself, he let his mind wander over the details of the case. _5 dead just in the past two weeks, animal attacks, though what kind of animal was never specified. Random animals dying at the veterinarian's. Demonic omens. General creepiness._

The town has a long history of weird deaths and murders, and an unusually high number of serial killers. The high school especially seems to attract a lot of bad shit, and one name- _Derek Hale-_ keeps popping up as a suspect. The list of witnesses for some of the crimes also have some repeating names: Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, _how-in-God's-name-do-you-pronounce-that_ Stilinski, and a few others. All of them were high schoolers, except Hale.

Sam and Dean had decided that the high school was a big enough problem that they would have go in. Apparently, the Econ teacher/lacrosse coach was taking a less-than-voluntary vacation due to stress issues and some anger problems, so Dean was going in as a substitute- _he's smart too, dammit, better at economics than Sam, plus that girl couldn't pass as a lacrosse coach if his life depended on it-_ and Sam would do general investigating while school and practice were in session.

The creak of the door signaled Sam's return. He shot a tight smile at Dean, worry for his probably-traumatized, definitely-not-talking-about-it brother evident on his face. He sat for a minute, not moving, not starting the car- _not moving towards the food, god-dammit._

"Sammy. You gotta turn the car on to make it go," Dean taunts, but his heart isn't in it. Sam jerks out of his stupor, and they head towards the pie- _hopefully, haven't had a good piece of pie in a year_.

As the last of the flavour of the bacon cheeseburger faded, Dean started in on his pie- _oh God YES, delicious, worth every penny_. He let out an almost orgasmic groan, getting him more than a few weird looks that turn into amusement at the sight of a man _clearly_ enjoying his food. Sam bitchfaced at Dean- _it can too be a verb, Sammy-_ , but Dean just shovels more of the heavenly pie into his mouth, more ecstatic groans escaping.

"I was thinking that we should head to the vet's soon," said Sam, "unless you want some time alone with that pie." Dean, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, wiggled his eyebrows in the affirmative, though to which one he is agreeing with, Sam wasn't sure. He signals the waiter for the check, and pays with a credit card that says Tyler Fitzgerald on it. They left the diner for the vet's office, with Dean driving- _as it should be, Baby is his-_ this time.

Dean cranks the music- _Metallica, as good as pie-_ and keeps it on until they reach the vet's. The moment the engine is off, the baying of dogs- _no, something worse-_ can be heard. They exchange glances full of dread, even as Dean throws open the trunk and grabs an angel blade and the demon killing knife, plus the glasses scorched in holy fire.

"Hell hounds?" Dean grimaced, a sinking feeling making its home in his stomach.

"Yup. Hell hounds," Sam confirmed. With that, Dean gave Sam the knife and kicked open the doors to the clinic.

 _MEANWHILE_ (that means we're switching to the wolve's perspectives, guys. Yes, meanwhile will signify POV switches. So it is said, so it shall be.)

Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac were gathered in the clinic, anxiously discussing the newest brash of deaths. Stiles was pacing nervously, wringing his hands, tapping his feet, humming-

"Stiles, you okay, man?" Scott's voice cut through Stiles' worrying, and he offered Scott a weak smile of reassurance. _Of course_ he was okay, not like there was yet another creature (or creatures) killing people. Why _wouldn't_ Stiles be okay, he was just _peachy-_ all right, so maybe he wasn't okay..

"Ya, I'm fine. Just... this case. All the vics seem like happy people, living the dream-until, suddenly, they aren't living anymore. And not to mention the smell of the vics. How did you describe it? 'Like death, wet dog, and rotten eggs.' That doesn't sound good."

Allison started to say something, but a menacing howl cut her off.

"Please, PLEASE tell me that was you," Stiles whispered, eyeing the werewolves. They shook their heads- _no_. _Shit._

More howls reached them, getting louder, getting closer. Scott and Isaac wolfed out, and Allison grabbed her bow. Stiles snatched up his bat, and Lydia... Had nothing. Stiles shoved his bat into her hands, then picked up a needle filled with something. Hopefully sedative. Or poison. Like, _really strong_ poison.

The door burst open, and even though they could hear the skittering of claws on tile, no beasts could be seen.

Then it all went to hell.

Scott was on the ground, arms up as if he were holding something off him, and Issac was swiping where he heard the animals. Allison shot arrows into empty space, some connecting and providing markers for the location of the animals, of which there were maybe five. Lydia swung Stiles' bat, not hitting anything, but not getting mauled to death either, so that was a plus. Stiles stood with his needle, which he now realized would do literally nothing. Basically, they were screwed.

Something hot knocked into Stiles, and he went down. Claws started digging into his chest, and he gasped in pain. Faintly, he heard- _Metallica?_ The music shut off, and then the doors exploded inwards, and what looked like two feds-two tall, _unfairly hot_ feds burst into the room.

"5, you get the red-head," barked out the shorter one with taller one, who was a friggin _giant_ moved to help Lydia, while Glasses ghosted over to Stiles.

One second, Stiles was certain death was upon him, then hot, sticky ichor covered him. Glasses had just cut the throat of whatever was attacking them, and Stiles saw something in his eyes that scared him more than any monster ever had. Then it was gone, and Glasses dispatched two more monsters in quick succession, the only indication of their deaths the sudden appearance of black blood, his movements fluid, graceful, ruthless, and without hesitation. He didn't stop, however, and when all the creatures were dead (Stiles was guessing, he still couldn't see them, but since nothing else was attacking them, he was going with dead), he pulled a gun from who-knows-where and put Isaac and Scott in his sights. who were still wolfed out. The jolly green giant moved quickly too, however, and put the two wolves behind his considerable mass.

"Dean, _Dean,_ man, stop. They have control, they're not feral. And they're kids. Just kids." Jolly Green, or whatever his name was, talked quickly and urgently, but still soothingly. As confirmation to this statement, Isaac and Scott de-wolfed. Glasses-no, _Dean_ , lowered his gun some, but not all the way.

"You good, Sammy?" he said gruffly. Jolly Green, who was a lot less intimidating since it had been revealed his name was _Sammy_ , rolled his eyes but nodded. This seemed to be all Dean needed to placate him, as he then clicked the safety back on and stowed the weapon away. Dean's eyes flew back to Stiles, checking the wounds on his chest.

"You're gonna need stitches, kid. We can do 'em here or drop you at a hospital. Your choice," he said shortly.

"Hospital, not such a great idea. Then I have to explain what happened and my dad will be called and then he'll worry and I'll be probably be grounded, and then more people will die, and then Dad will set a curfew, and then I'll get grounded for breaking said curfew, and-." Stiles cut off his word vomit before it got out of control. Something told him that annoying these hunters-because that's what they had to be-would end badly. They were extremely intimidating. Maybe it was the gun. Or the knives. Or the height.

Okay, definitely the height.

Scott spoke up for the first time since the hunters had appeared. "Um.. I guess I'll call Deaton. He's the vet who owns the clinic, he can take care of Stiles."

Dean stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Naw, that would take too long. He's lost enough blood as it is. C'mon kid, I'll patch you up. Sam, it's a clinic, go find the supplies. Grab some extra too, might as well restock while we have the chance."

So Jolly Green was Sam, not Sammy. Must be a nickname. Stiles thought about this, because anything was better than the pain, as Dean picked him up bridal style and took him into the back room, and set him down gently on the operating table. Sam soon emerged through the doors as well, carrying various items. He set most of them down on a little cart and wheeled it up to Dean, who picked up a syringe, and for a second, Stiles saw that _thing_ in his eyes again, but it was a little different this time, less merciless killer, more sadistic torturer, like if he wanted, he could make Stiles feel unbelievable pain just with that syringe.

Which only made it that much more embarrassing when not only did the man who saved Stiles' life didn't do unspeakable things to Stiles, but numbed the areas around the cuts. Because those two things were exactly the same. Obviously.

Dean nimbly threaded a curved hook, and Stiles looked away as it pierced his skin and sewed it back together.

 _MEANWHILE_ (this one is from a more general pack POV)

Sam had left the pack alone in the clinic lobby to clean up the weapons and put them away, along with the glasses and stolen medical supplies. They set about discussing the newest attack and, more importantly, their mysterious rescuers.

"Both of them… Death and danger just radiates from them, especially Dean. I sense this _wrongness_ from them, too. I can't quite place it. They're just _wrong_ ," said Lydia nervously, swirling her hair around her fingers. "And God only knows what those things that attacked us were."

"They're probably the same creatures that have been killing people around town. They smelled the same, at least. I wonder if those were all of them," said Scott.

"We need to talk to those hunters, they obviously know what they were and how to kill them. If I can get a last name, I'll ask my dad if he's heard anything about them," Allison added.

"Agreed." said Isaac as he casted a smile at Allison, who blushed and looked down. Scott scowled.

"I wonder how Stiles doing. I bet he won't shut up, even for stitches," mused Isaac.

"Stiles! We still don't know these guys, I shouldn't have left him alone!" exclaimed Scott, and moved to go into the operation room. Allison blocked the door before he could reach it.

"Scott, don't, you'll just disturb them. He won't kill Stiles, he just saved him. Just stay, okay?" she implored. Scott nodded his head slowly, albeit reluctantly.

The front door opened, and the pack turned as one to watch Sam renter the clinic. He came to a stop in front of them and sighed.

"So, I guess I owe you guys an explanation for what just happened. Obviously, you know that the supernatural does exist, but I'm not sure how much you know, so I'll just start at the beginning. I'm Sam Winchester, and my brother Dean is the guy stitching up your friend. The things that attacked you and probably all those other people is a hell hound. It's a demonic animal that usually works for a crossroads demon. They're usually invisible, except to those it has been sent to reap, people close to death, and if you look through an object scorched in holy fire," he explained.

The pack stood in silence, absorbing the information.

"I'm sorry, you said _demons_ , right? As in Hell?" asked Isaac incredulously.

"Yes, demons exist. Along with ghosts, vampires, wendigos, strigas, angels, who are, frankly, dicks, plus a whole slew of other supernatural creatures," said Sam.

"We know about a couple of those. I'm from a family of hunters, the Argents," said Allison.

"Oh, the Argents! You guys specialize in werewolves. Bobby mentioned you guys a couple of times." A flash of sadness flew across the hunters face and quickly vanished. Sam gestured to the two wolves. "There must be a great story there, then," he chuckled.

Everyone sounded in the affirmative.

"I'm going to go check on your friend, and talk to Dean more about the situation in your town after we have him all stitched up," said Sam, and he walked into the operation room. No one tried to stop him.

Allison whipped out her phone and dialled her Dad.

"Dad, what do you know about the Winchesters?"


End file.
